Snake Venom
by Ronin201
Summary: Helicopter pilots may not have ALL the glory that fast mover pilots get, but that doesn't stop them. A oneshot about a group of Osean Marine AH-1/UH-1 crews during the fighting in Arlon. Respective Owners retain their respective rights.


_Snake Venom_

_April 19, 1995_

_Camp Buckley, Sapin_

Captain Jon "Guppy" Gesporzo lifted the entrance flap of his tent and squinted at the sunlight. It was a cloudless day in Sapin, and the dry plains were getting further baked by the sun. He arched his back and yawned again.

"Hey Guppy, get your ass outta my face."

The man took a step forward as 1Lt. Ray Morton straightened up after exiting the tent.

"Well stop trying to smell my farts." His fellow officer retorted.

The two went left down the row of olive green tents towards the solid buildings of their current residence. Before the evening of March 24, 1995, Camp Buckley had been a depot for coach buses that belonged to a Sapin-based tour agency. When Belkan troops crossed the border, Gran Rugido nationalized the site and soon after gave it to the Osean forces coming to help. The fence had been knocked over, and the large concrete lot used to place buses was now home to two squadrons of Osean Marine Corps helicopters. Jon and Ray belonged to HMLA-281, the Chimeras, as an AH-1 pilot and gunner respectively.

Beyond the commune of canvas structures were a few garages for maintenance. Wedged between two of them were a pair of portable buildings, like ones found at a construction site. The two walked between them to one marked "Chimera's Den" and up the stairs. They could hear loud rock music blasting from inside. Beyond the door was several other aircrew of the squadron gathered in the squadron's temporary lounge away from their home at Camp Forge back in Osea.

"Heya Guppy, Shorty!" Captain Arnold Nicholas smiled. The two looked over at the man on the couch as he withdrew two cans of Diet Coke from a cooler.

"Need a buzz of caffeine before we take off?" He offered.

"Hit me." Jon said, holding his hands out towards. The black-haired pilot gave the silver can a gentle toss through the air to Guppy's hands.

Guppy cracked open the can and walked to the flight schedule. As he'd suspected he was on the next sortie, which was labeled under the main role of the AH-1: close air support. The briefing was supposed to be going down in the next room in around ten minutes. He turned towards the big TV in the space, which was currently the source of the music rather than being turned to the news. Ironically they had to rely heavily on the media to get the big picture of how long the war might take. All they knew outside that was what part they had to play, and that was helping the advance from Sapin to Ustio and Belka.

The ground drive in this area was a two-pronged effort. The Osean Army's 12th Infantry Division would swing through the southern part of Ustio alongside two divisions of the Ustian Army. Part of the 1st MEF (the other part was poised to take the Futuro Canal) and two divisions of Sapin's army would eject the Belkan Army from Arlon. To Jon, the war here in Sapin had a personal side to it. This was where the Sapin heritage in his blood came from, and where he had family members. It made that blood boil, and he'd personally made sure he was fighting here, where he belonged. Jon was an Osean, first and foremost, but he would be damned if he let his family's home be defiled like this.

He turned towards Arnold and took another slug of his diet soda.

"You get tapped for flight lead?" the olive-skinned pilot asked. Arnold nodded and winked.

"We're gonna have some fun today. I've heard that things are turning around for us, we get to go on the offensive now."

That was good; Jon wasn't one for running and his mount wasn't made to defend, it was made to hunt. The Captain watching the TV stood up and switched it off.

"Okay boys, time for class." He announced.

The eight Cobra crews and two Huey crews (just the pilot and co-pilot) tapped for the flight shuffled into the next room for the briefing. One of them watched the door as the others claimed desks, coming to attention when Major Jun-seo Park, a Huey pilot that served as the squadron's operations officer, entered. He had the men take a seat before he walked towards a map on a three-legged easel and cleared his throat, contorting his jagged Oriental features.

"Today we're fragging aircraft to support a counteroffensive by the 18th MEB, to take the Sapin town of La Santia. We'll be providing air support primarily to the recon elements as they establish forward positions to get a foothold on the southeastern edge of the settlement. We're sending up two flights of six, four Cobras to provide direct fire and two Hueys to provide observation and CASEVAC. All-source intel believes that the Belkans have yet to reach the town, but there is a strong possibility that they have scouts in the area like us." The Major began as he traced a line towards the map of a town from the symbols of OMC recon units with a pointer.

"We'll approach the town from two directions. The first flight, Fang 1, will come from the south and sweep past and north of the town to attack any Belkan forces before they can establish a presence in the town. The second force will swing in a parallel axis with the ground units, mostly LAV-25s and HUMVEEs, call sign "Roadrunner", and provide them with support." The man went on, running the wooden stick in the respective motions. Ray put a hand up.

"What are the rules of engagement? Do we know anything regarding civvies in the area?" He asked.

"Assume that there are still noncombatants in the town, and only fire on buildings if its confirmed they are occupied by hostiles alone. Even then stick to your guns or rockets; don't wanna collapse a building with a Hellfire." The Major replied readily. A Huey pilot, Kirk Doque, put his hand up.

"I'm assuming we'll have a specific formation so the Cobras take fire first?" He said when acknowledged. Park flashed a smile.

"You guys are getting ahead of me." He commented as he flipped the map over to reveal said subject.

"Each flight will have the Cobras ahead and on the flanks of the Hueys. The Cobras will be carrying most of the heat, but each Huey will be armed with its own M2s for defense and light attack, but again their main role is being ready to evac anyone who gets injured. When we approach the town, the Hueys will gain some altitude and stay in a holding pattern south of La Santia." The major explained.

"Fast movers?" someone else asked.

"Navy said they'll try and have some fast-movers on scene to provide support, probably F-18s or A-6s." He replied. A few scoffs could be heard behind Jon's head.

"Any kind of FAC work will come from a guy attached to the scouts. Now, the FARP will be 17 miles south of the fight. 18th MEB also has an aid station there to receive any wounded the Hueys bring in." He added. The man had a few more photos to show.

"Our latest intel tells us that the closest Belkan unit to La Santia is a company of mechanized recon using Luchs APCs and Wiesels as well as troops in Fuchs APCs. Less threatening than Leo 2s with accompanying Zeuses, but stay on your toes." He reported, consulting some photographs that'd been marked to show the location of several of said vehicles. The man looked over the group of Marine aviators.

"In addition, the BAF is still a factor in the fight. I'm assured that our counterparts in their faster machines are working to get air superiority, but don't rely on that completely. If any enemy fast movers show up, get out of dodge and call in the proper assets." He reminded them all.

"Any further questions?" He asked. No one could think of any further ones, and so Park dismissed them to get their things.

In the building next to them that'd been converted into a hangar for keeping up the aircraft of the squadron, one of the corners had been set up to hold the crews' flight gear. Jon took a dark green flight vest off its rack and pulled it over his shoulders. He carefully stuffed his maps into the large pouches and grabbed a camouflaged helmet from the shelves above the vests. As he secured the flight gloves on his hands and made sure his helmet strap was tight, the pilot approached the armorer for the last piece of his gear: A Colt M45 handgun. Weapon holstered on his hip soon after, he met his co-pilot near the large doors to the structure.

"Ready to get some?" Ray winked as he put on a pair of Oakley sunglasses.

"Damn straight, Shorty." Jon returned as he adjusted his boom mike.

Waiting for them on the northernmost edge of the tarmac were four AH-1W Super Cobras in three-tone camo, each bearing the markings of the squadron on its engine pods (though from their angle they could see only one). Next to those were two UH-1N Twin Hueys in the same livery. The rest of the flight was on the opposite end.

Jon walked up to the Plane Captain (or more, the Helo Captain) and gave him a greeting slap on the shoulder.

"Weapons all clear so far?" he asked, glancing at some ordnance handlers as they looked over an AGM-114 Hellfire. Ray joined him before he looked over the tools of rotary-wing warfare himself.

"What's the ammo type for the Gatling?" the redhead asked, pushing up his sunglasses.

"We made every third round a tracer, sir." The enlisted Marine replied. Ray nodded and looked back at their Cobra, official known as "Fang 07", which carried eight AGM-114s, and two 19-shot pods of Hydra 70 rockets.

Jon conversed with the head of maintenance a bit more before joining Ray to inspect the machine. As they'd expected it looked more than ready, and the weapons attached to its stubby pylons were firmly in place. Jon came around to the left side and carefully navigated up into the rear cockpit, while Ray sat in the front. The final restraints from flight were removed from the AH-1 and systems were powered up. Jon looked out and saw a plane director waiting for him. With everything in the cockpit ready, he nodded and got the signal to start up the engines. The man adjusted his boom mike and reached for the open window.

The two powerplants behind the aircraft's crew made a long draw as they came to life. At the top border of Guppy's peripheral vision, he saw the blades begin to rotate, gaining speed with each lap as Jon increased the throttles. The whine leveled out as the rotor blades reached just below the speed for lift-off. He looked back down to check his gauges again before keying up the radio.

"Buckley tower, this is Fang 07, request current conditions." He asked. There was a brief pause before he got what he sought.

"Fang 07, Buckley Tower, winds at 1 knot going east to west. Still no rainclouds to be found." A voice replied. Jon nodded and slid down his visor as the sun moved out from behind an errant cloud.

"Fang 07, requesting clearance for takeoff." The man sounded.

"Fang 07, you're clear. Watch for Fang 03 on your right." The makeshift tower atop one of the buildings replied.

Jon gave a "Roger" and fed the engines even more power. Carefully, as the AH-1W rose from the ground, he eased the nose down and began forward. The other AH-1s were rising in near-perfect synchronicity as OMC helo pilots had been trained. Jon's Cobra drifted over the edge of the concrete and began to move forward more as he influenced it so. The formation swung to the north and began to reform into the proper setup that'd been given in the briefing. He glanced back at the two Hueys to make sure they were still there once or twice.

"Roadrunner, this is Fang 1, we're inbound to your twenty as fragged." Arnold spoke up.

"Roger that Fang, this is Roadrunner 1-3, we're moving towards the objective. Nothing to report yet." A voice replied over the sound of a diesel engine.

Ray took off his sunglasses and ran his hands across his controls to make sure they were still all reading correctly. Jon kept the AH-1 at a mere 300 feet above the ground as the formation skimmed along.

"Okay Shorty, arm em." Jon said as he cleared a small creek.

"Roger that." the co-pilot said as he flipped up the switch and selected the Hellfires. He pressed his eyes against the sights for the Cobra and peered out far ahead of their machine. He could see buildings on the horizon, along with clouds of tan dust from the recon vehicles.

"Fang 14 and 10 are moving into holding pattern."

"Fang 16 and 12 are moving into holding pattern."

The Hueys dropped out of the formation and began to swing to the right as they cleared the advancing AH-1s. Jon glanced over at the other quad of Cobras as they began to drift into position to move around the town. He and the rest of Fang 1 moved to catch up with the recon marines. The pilot of Fang 07 looked ahead and began to spot flashes. The radio burst back to life.

"Fang 1, this is Roadrunner 1-3, we're in contact and need immediate assistance! Two vehicles down; heavy fire coming from our two o' clock!" a voice barked over the airwaves.

"Calm down Roadrunner, Cav's inbound. Can you recover your wounded? We've got two Hueys ready for CASEVAC, just need a place to land and folks to save." Captain Nicholas replied with cool moxie. His voice turned on the other helos.

"Fang 1, break formation and engage at will. Remember the ROE."

Jon craned his neck to the right and tilted the Cobra the same way. It was safe to assume the Belkans had forces in the town. He spotted the billows of black smoke coming from the hit LAVs, and more dust as the survivors (including two HUMVEEs) maneuvered to avoid the same fate. Ray had his head pressed against his sights, trying to get a target for the M197. He spotted movement in a window and saw a rocket fly from it. He swiveled the heavy firearm towards it. When he spotted a figure he let loose.

"Fang 07, guns, guns, guns." Ray called as he fired a quick burst.

Outside the cockpit the three-barreled Gatling made a sort of stuttering noise. The window was clouded by shattered concrete for a second, during which no rockets came out. Jon strained to keep a visual on the target and fly.

"Somebody get eyes on that window!" He commanded.

Jon took the AH-1W over the city, looking to draw any small arms fire. His wish was granted as he spotted a Wiesel in the streets below, its cannon's barrel pointed skyward. The pilot broke into the weapon's firing arc quick, trying to outrun the turret's turn. He saw a flash out of the corner of his eye and managed to catch a Hellfire as it cruised below his helicopter. The small AFV was hit and seemed to roll back as it came apart.

"Good hits on that Wiesel. Anyone checked that window?" Arnold called as he passed over his first kill of the day.

"Good hits for Fang 07, good hits on that window!" the pilot of Fang 05 reported.

Jon cleared the town and tilted the Cobra to the right, Ray swiveling the sights on the machine's nose to search for more to shoot at. The other element of the recon marines, which were flanking the town from the northeast, had formed into a firing line and were exchanging rounds with the entrenched Belkans.

"I've got another target, Guppy. Two o' clock on the roof of the U-shaped structure." He reported as they circled back towards the fighting.

Jon glanced in the direction and spotted a darker spot compared to the rest of the building. He brought the Cobra over the second group of LAVs as they fired at their own targets and lined up the machine with its target. Ray adjusted and let off two of the rockets.

"Fang 07, spear, spear!" He cried as the weapons went hissing towards the enemy position. The Cobra blew away the smoke from the explosion as it buzzed past.

"Roadrunner 1-2 is advancing on the objective, taking small arms fire from various windows, but we should be good." Another unnamed LAV crewman reported over the metallic thunder of his Bushmaster cannon.

Jon looked over the town to get a better sense of where the Belkans were. They seemed to be concentrated along the edges of the town, and even then these had to be forward elements of the recon force. He saw another Wiesel pressing along a road, cannon flashing at him. With a call to his co-pilot, Jon swung the nose towards the machine and depressed it. Ray let off a quick salvo of Hydras at the tracked machine, easily breaking its light armor The AH-1 drew more ire as it swooped past, shrugging off the 7.62mm rounds of G3 rifles.

"Get those Hueys to the wounded, ASAP! And get a secure LZ for em!" Arnold said, sounding increasingly frustrated by the lack of such a thing.

"Roger, Fang 14 and 10 coming outta the holding pattern." One of the UH-1 pilots spoke up.

Jon gritted his teeth and carefully snaked his AH-1 to the left to get a better angle on the side of La Santia facing the beleaguered ground troops. He slowed the Cobra and rotated it so the remaining weapons were ready, strafing to the right to avoid being a target. Ray swiveled the sights each way and spotted an almost continuous muzzle flashing. He went to the Gatling and made quick work of the shooter. Fang 05 and Fang 08 joined them as Jon turned his nose away and moved to give the transport helicopters more room.

The Hueys hit the ground near two of the knocked out LAVs, their escorting Cobras hovering above, for once taking a chance by hovering at a standstill. Ray spotted a third Wiesel making its presence known. It got another burst of 20mm as a reward.

"Fang 14, what's the status on the evac?" Jon asked.

"Still in progress, gonna take some time." the Huey's pilot replied. Guppy's face contorted in tension. Every second they sat here was increasing the risk…

"Fang 03 here, I've glassed a formation of light vehicles approaching the objective from the north. Must be the main force. Fang 07, 05, and 09 follow me. The rest of you, escort those Hueys to the FARP!" Arnold spoke up.

"Roger that Palmer, on our way." Jon said as he started the AH-1 forward. He glanced at the back of Ray's helmet.

"Shorty, got the Hellfires ready?" He asked. The man flashed a thumbs up, too engrossed in the task at hand as they passed over the town.

Jon flung his vision to each side, trying to spot any more Belkans before they could spot him. It seemed they'd become preoccupied with the LAVs and HUMVEEs busting in.

"Okay Guppy, slow her down! We'll overshoot at this rate!" Ray requested. Jon pulled back the throttles carefully.

Ray spotted the Belkan Luchs as it crested the hill. He immediately centered the laser designator on it and waited for the AGM-114 to get a good sense of one of the reflected beams. Upon the proper indication, he depressed the fire button.

"Fang 07, rifle!"

The dark green missile went by just outside the windscreen and across the Sapin countryside. The Luchs had just zeroed in on them when it struck.

"Good hits on a Belkan APC, looking for another." Ray called, not even lifting his head from the sights for a minute.

"Got another!" He called as two more came into view.

The next two came roaring in, guns blazing. Jon moved the AH-1 and made a sort of strafe to the right, the aircraft's nose rotated to the northwest. He saw Fang 05 pick off the first APC with a Hellfire, and theirs was next. But this one was getting wily as Ray called out "Rifle". The APC fired back as it maneuvered, and Jon could feel his Cobra shudder violently as their attacker met its fate despite its best efforts. He drew the Cobra away from the burning Luchs and kept a firm hand on the controls.

"Fang 07, are you okay? You're trailing smoke from your left engine. I think I see a few scuffs in the tail, too." the pilot of 05 asked.

"I think so, I still have control." Jon reported over the sounds of alarms and flash of red lights.

"Guppy, get that thing to the FARP, right now." Arnold ordered as he came around to escort him.

The fellow captain didn't argue as he took his machine back to the South. Every inch of the way he fought the controls and glared at the warnings. The Cobra didn't make it very far before it began to gently sway without Jon's doing, acting more like a beast about to fall. Finally Jon gave up trying to fight it. He saw a farm in the distance and ground his teeth together.

"This is Fang 07, I'm losing control of this thing…rudders aren't responding." He said with a grunt as he was nearly kicking the pedals. He saw a new warning.

"Left engine is starting to die on me…fuck, I'm gonna have to put her down." he announced as the AH-1W made a particularly violent shake.

"Roger that, 07, good luck." Arnold radioed.

Jon drew in a deep breath and ordered Ray to disarm and jettison the weapons for good measure. He felt them tumble away after a second and a weight come off the airframe. The farm would be the landing point, he'd decided.

"Shorty, brace for impact." He added as he began to descend the Cobra from 500 feet, keeping a vice-like grip on the yaw rate the wounded helicopter.

"Fang 07 is going down. 07 going down." He groaned with audible frustration.

The ground came up with an increasingly fast pace as Jon pulled back the throttles. Sweat went under his flight suit and down his back and chest while Ray kept quiet, holding in a bracing position for the inevitable and unpredictable catastrophe ahead. Arnold slid to the right and then back to the left in anticipation, ready to take up an orbit. At this point Jon was muttering prayers and words of love in a mix of Spanish and English. Fang 07 barely missed the farm's barbed wire fence, and its pilot knocked the head off a scarecrow.

The chin of the Cobra, and consequentially its gun, slammed into the plowed field as gently as Jon could have orchestrated. The thick ground slowed the aircraft and caused it to start into a flip before falling on its side. The momentum wasn't enough to carry on a flip, but as it landed the rotors dug into the dirt, shattering like chopsticks that'd been bent with enough force. The blade remnants flew in all kinds of directions away from the cockpit. Inside, the two crew were jerked around and rattled, each second desperately hoping the crash was done. Finally, with the machine's gauges dead and its engine croaking mortally, the AH-1W rocked softly into a final spot of resting. Jon looked around frantically and sniffed hard for the smell of gas. He looked forward.

"Ray! Ray?! Talk to me!" He demanded. There was a low moan as Ray cocked his view "upwards".

"Yah dead, Guppy?" He asked.

"If I was dead, there'd be topless women dancing around me." The pilot responded as he looked towards the latch for his cockpit's windscreen.

He then looked back around the cockpit for his MP5A3, which served as a addition of firepower to his M45. He pulled out the weapon and opened the windscreen a bit before redirecting his right hand to unbuckle himself. The pilot nearly fell out at the angle. He transferred the SMG to his shooting hand and crawled out of the Cobra. He rushed to the windscreen for Ray and banged on it, before turning around and adjusting his boom mike so it was out of his face. They were still alone as Ray struggled out of the crashed attack helicopter.

"Can you walk?" Jon asked.

"Get me on my feet and I can run." The man snarled as he pulled back the stock of his own MP5, determined not to be captured.

Jon looked up as Arnold's AH-1 kept circling. He looked back down and saw a figure running across the field, pitchfork raised above his head. As the approaching stranger, the farmer both guessed, approached, Jon could pick up a loud stream of obscenities and angered exclamations, most directed at the fact a helicopter had been plowed into his source of income. Jon chuckled at the middle-aged man's choice of words and waved, telling him they were Oseans. The man didn't attempt to stab them, much to a wide-eyed Ray's happiness, but as Arnold called over the survival radio, Jon was busy trying to say he was sorry to the angered farmer and explain why they'd gone down.

_**A/N: So I've gotten a few oneshot ideas that'll be popping here and there between updates for the stories I'm writing, most focusing on the Belkan War (it's taken a place as my favorite conflict to write about in Ace Combat). Not much to add about this piece, should all be pretty self-explanatory. For those who didn't know, HMLAs usually use both Hueys and Cobras and considering the size of those two machines, I figured a bus depot would be a good place to serve as a little airbase. Another interesting thing is that for a while helicopter pilots did carry MP5s for personal defense (one example is when Mike Durant crashed in Somalia) but trashed the idea when the weapon wasn't found to have much firepower.**_


End file.
